


First Meetings

by Tazzy_Ladynero



Series: Bunnymund Holmes [9]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, Humor, Sherlock AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tazzy_Ladynero/pseuds/Tazzy_Ladynero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three important meetings between Toothiana and People of Interest when she first arrives in London.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> After my previous Toothiana story, Icka and Earthstar challenged me to write the first meeting between Toothiana and North Watson. They had a few requirements and this is the story that came about. 
> 
> Also, for those that aren't familiar with it, a keffiyeh is the scarf-like headdress worn in the Middle East that can also be pulled across the face as a veil. Think "Lawrence of Arabia".

She had only been in London for about a month when she had her first unusual meeting. 

Toothiana, the last Sister of Flight, had barely gotten her new residence settled when her part time maid, Rose, had announced a visitor in the front parlor. The man that was standing there among the brocade covered furniture and damask silk wallpaper made her hesitate just the tiniest bit. He wasn’t threatening to look at, tall and slender with a walking cane and dressed entirely in shades of black. His hair was neatly combed away from his narrow face, giving him an almost regal appearance, but there was something in his golden eyes that made her think of cages and nets.

“Forgive me for calling on you at such an hour, Your Highness,” the man said with a respectful bow to her, and she resisted the urge to glance at the clock or the window. It was barely tea time, not that late to have a visitor drop by. Rose hovered in a corner, apparently acting as chaperone for this unusual meeting. “I know you have recently moved to London and barely had time to set up your home. I would not bother you, but I’m afraid my need is rather urgent.”

“No need for apology, sir,” Toothiana replied with a nod of her head. There was a whole series of calling etiquette that she was quickly learning that allowed for various visitation between people. The fact that this gentleman had not given his card to Rose worried her a bit. “What can I help you with, Mister…?”

“Cosmos Black, Your Highness,” the man said with another little bow. He straightened with an apologetic look on his face. “I have heard that you can find memories left in a personal object such as hair off of someone’s head. Is that correct?”

Toothiana inclined her head as she folded her hands on her skirt. It kept her from reaching out for the sabers that were tastefully hung on the wall. She didn’t know why, but she really wanted one in her hand right then. It was probably for the same reason his eyes reminded her of the times when she and her parents were hunted. “What is it you seek?”

Reaching into his jacket, Black pulled out a snuff box made from an ebony wood that had been polished to a high gloss. On the lid was a carving of an almost demonic looking horse with a small topaz chip for an eye. Somehow the fearsome image fit the dark man that seemed to shed shadows and darkness as he stood in her brightly decorated parlor.

“My grandfather recently passed unexpectedly,” he explained, opening the box lid to reveal a lock of shocking white hair curled inside, tied with a thin black ribbon. “There are a few of us in the family who have a solid claim on the estate, but his will is currently missing. Without it, we will be unable to settle the matter.”

“Let me see what I can do,” she murmured, her heart going out to him. Well that certainly explained the black wardrobe, but not the strange feeling that she got from him. Reaching out, Toothiana carefully removed the lock of hair, and she marveled at the texture. It was very soft, almost fine, but it didn’t feel like hair that belonged to an old man. Yet she had never seen anyone younger than sixty with hair this shade of white. Closing her eyes, she cradled the hair in her hands before reaching out to whatever memories it contained.

She gasped, her eyes flying open as she was assaulted with a rapid fire of images. Breath stealing cold. Broken ice. Surrounded by freezing water. Forcing a heart to beat. A _Young_ man’s laughter on the wind. Yearning for something or someone.

The lock was thrown at Black before she could think, a saber taking its place in her hand as she glared at the man, ignoring Rose’s startled squeak of fear. “I do not appreciate liars or those attempting to use me, Mister Black,” she spat his name like a curse as she pointed her saber at him, light flashing off the flat surface. “I suggest you leave and _never_ darken my door again. Or you will be witness to other talents I possess beyond my ability to awaken memories.”

For a few moments, Toothiana thought Black was going to challenge her from the way his eyes narrowed with a cunning cruelty. However, he simply bent, retrieved the hair, and tucked it away in the snuff box once more. Then he bowed to her. “I thank you for your time, Your Highness.”

Turning on a heel, Black scooped up his hat where it had been placed on a nearby side table and walked out of the room. It took all of her will to not follow him to the door. She didn’t move until she heard the front door open and then close again. Only then did Toothiana allow herself the luxury of snarling a string of curses as she stormed to the front door and with a satisfied air, she threw the locks with a gesture used to ward off evil. There was no doubt in her mind that Black, or whatever his name was, had attempted to use her talents for some nefarious purpose of his own. Whirling around, Toothiana found Rose standing in the hallway, a scandalized look on her face. Probably from Toothiana’s language, but the feathered woman couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

“That man is _never_ allowed in my home again, Rose,” Toothiana ordered. “Should he attempt to gain entry or bother me again, you will ring for the police immediately.”

She didn’t wait to hear the girl’s reply as she returned to the parlor to replace the saber on the wall. This was her home now, her sanctuary in this strange city. She was _not_ going to let that man befoul it with his presence again.

 

The next meeting was much more interesting. 

Having been invited to a mid summer soiree at Lady Amelia Heartchild’s estate, Toothiana found herself being introduced to all sorts of people who moved around in the titled circles of the upper class. It was simple to understand why she had been invited after Lady Amelia had introduced her as “Her Highness, Toothiana of the Sisters of Flight.” The woman herself wanted the privilege of being about to say that she introduced Toothiana to London Society and gain a bit more status for such a ‘favor’. After about a half hour of introductions, Toothiana begged off for a while, citing a need for fresh air as an excuse to leave her hostess for a while. 

Making her escape to the open patio, Toothiana sighed in relief as she leaned against the stone railing. Her head was swimming slightly from the stuffiness of the room she had just left. Why did the English insist on having such enclosed houses and then try to pack half of London in one room? There were easier ways to suffocate oneself than that.

“Something to drink?” A male voice offered behind her, and Toothiana turned to find a young man standing there with two flutes of champagne in his hands. He was dressed in a well cut tuxedo that was accented with an ice blue satin at the lapels and cuffs that made his blue eyes stand out under his pale hair. He smiled at her and offered one of the flutes. “Lady Amelia is enough to make any sane person seek refuge in the gardens, but she serves excellent alcohol.”

A laugh was startled out of Toothiana, and she accepted the offered glass. “It sounds as if you have a previous acquaintance with our hostess, mister…?”

There was a sense of deja vu as the young man bowed to her. “Jack Adler, Your Highness,” he said with a flash of white teeth that made her heart beat just a bit faster. She had a weakness for a nice smile, and Adler’s smile was _very_ nice. Strong, white teeth in a charming curl of pale skin. Her mother always told her that a person’s inner self was revealed in their smile and their eyes. They could lie with one but never both. Adler’s eyes were dancing with amusement that matched the smile he continued to offer her.

“Your name is German but your voice carries no accent from the land of the Kaisers,” Toothiana mused with a small tilt of her head as she sipped the champagne. He was right in one thing at least. Lady Amelia did serve excellent alcohol.

He laughed and moved over to lean against the railing next to her, not crowding her in the least which she found a pleasant change. Far too many wished to crowd into her personal space, making her feathers itch. “The Adler family left the land of the Kaisers many generations ago to settle roots in the land of the English Rose.”

There was something in his eyes that said he wasn’t speaking the entire truth, but Toothiana was willing to let the exaggeration lie. After all, her reasons for relocating to England were much less innocent than a relocation of a family. She shoved those thoughts aside for now as she focused on the young man beside her. There was something familiar about him but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It would come to her in time, but it would bug her, like a bit of dirt under a feather.

“What brings a Sister of Flight from the warm skies of India?” Adler inquired with another grin. “It certainly can’t be the weather.”

“I’m searching for someone,” she confessed, draining the rest of her flute before placing it carefully on the stone railing with an almost fatalistic click of crystal. When she found her prey, she was going to make him regret the day he entertained the idea to come after her family. Curling her hands into fists, Toothiana pressed her knuckles against the rough stone as she took slow, deep breaths, pushing her absolute fury at the Monkey King down again. It would do her no good to entertain such feelings here, where there was no sign of her prey among the satins, silks and glittering jewels of high society.

“Anyone I might know?” inquired Adler. She looked over at him with a raised brow. The question had been innocent enough, but there had been something in Adler’s tone. An offer of help perhaps?

“Forgive me for saying such, Mr. Adler, but you do not seem like the sort to cavort with thieves and murderers,” Toothiana remarked before tilting her head back at the crowded room room. “Magpies and macaws, yes, but not thieves and murderers.”

For some reason, her words caused him to burst into laughter. It had the feeling of a private joke so she took no offense at his laughter. He sobered after a few minutes, but still grinned at her, his eyes dancing. “Magpies and pacaws. That is a rather fitting description for the gaggle of society crowded in that tiny room.” HIs grin grew as he leaned in a touch closer to her. “Would you like to hear the latest news about those magpies and macaws?”

The two of them had talked with Adler sharing a great deal of society gossip with her for quite a long while before Lady Amelia had appeared to repossess Toothiana. It was a few hours later when Toothiana was on her way back to her residence, tired and with her head swimming with information, that she realized why Adler had seemed so familiar to her.

His hair had been the same shade as the lock that Black had brought to her.

A faint frown crossed her face at that sudden realization. Adler had been a rather personable fellow, very likable and fun. Was he somehow mixed up in whatever it was Black wanted with the memories in the hair? Shaking her head, she shoved the thoughts aside for now. Black had never sought a second audience with her, and if it was a simple thing as a grudge between the two men, she was _not_ going to get involved. Besides, she had her own grudge to settle.

 

The third meeting was by far the most memorable for not only the location but the people involved as well.

One of the more disreputable contacts had finally gotten the information that Toothiana had been seeking. The location of the Monkey King’s current den. A bit of research showed that the address was in a rougher neighborhood, one that she had been cautioned against entering after dark without a well armed escort if she desperately had business in that area. Of course, the person who warned her obviously could not understand why a well bred lady such as Toothiana would wish to venture into such a neighborhood even during the daylight hours. 

After her maid had left for the day, Toothiana had quickly and easily changed into darker clothes complete with a keffiyeh, a square scarf that covered her head with part of it drawn across her face as a veil, hiding as much of her bright plumage as she could, grabbed her two favorite sabers, and made her way down to the warehouse where the Monkey King was hiding. She reached the structure as a fog was starting to roll in off the water, and her lips curled back in a predatory snarl as she slipped in through an open window. Apparently, coming to a new country had made the Monkey King careless.

The feeling that something was wrong assaulted her when she made her way through the crates stacked in the warehouse as silent as a shadow. It was too quiet in the darkness, and she couldn’t smell the stench that permeated the air wherever the Monkey King squatted. Her informant had told her that the Monkey King had been living here for a few months, but the air, and the warehouse itself, was too clean for that.

This was a trap.

Berating herself for ten kinds of a fool, Toothiana hurried to the closest door, hands on her sabers. She had to get out of here and fast. Unfortunately, whatever god was looking after a foolish Sister of Flight either blinked or decided to teach her a lesson for her anger, because almost as soon as she reached it, the door started to open. 

Jumping backwards into the shadows, her sabers appearing in her hands, Toothiana tensed, waiting for her opponents to appear. There were hushed mutterings that she couldn’t make out through the wood, but the first person through the door was a large man with a scowl on his face. In his hands were a pair of sabers as well.

“Are you sure this is place?” His words were colored with a thick Russian accent, and her feathers puffed up in irritation. The Monkey King sent a Cossack after her? She, who had been trained in the Rajput style, was to face a simple Cossack? The idea was laughable to her.

“According to my informants, our target is inside,” announced a voice straight from Australia. Oh this was just getting more amusing by the second. She didn’t know where the Monkey King had found a Bushman and a Cossack willing to work together, but it was obvious they were here for her.

The second the door was closed behind the second figure, Toothiana took the initiative. With a war cry, she sprang at the Cossack, her sabers flashing in the dim light. He snarled a curse as he brought his own blades up to block her attack before shoving her away. She danced back a few steps, bringing her sabers up to block his attack with a grunt. He was strong, almost stronger than her, but she was not going to back down. 

Twirling out of range of a blow, Toothiana lost sight of the second person as the Bushman ducked into the shadows, and she let off a quiet swear. Losing sight of the enemy was dangerous and a mistake. Then she was too busy fighting the Cossack to worry about trying to locate the Bushman in the dark shadows of the warehouse.

Crates were knocked over to smash on the floor or just tumble around, making footing hazardous. More than once, Toothiana nearly lost her balance when her foot slid on loose straw that had been packed around something in a crate before the wooden container had been among the casualties. The faint whispering of air was the only warning she had, ducking and twisting out of the way of the boomerang that soared through the air where her head had been only a few seconds before. Well, at least she had an idea of where the Bushman was at the minute. She had to admit to herself that it was a shame the Cossack was working for the Monkey King as she hadn’t had a fight like this in ages.

Suddenly, a pile of crates went flying through the air with a crashing of wood, and Toothiana yelped as the corner of one clipped her arm, causing her to briefly drop her saber as her fingers spasmed. Quickly, she scooped it back up just as two giant shadows stepped into the dim light, and her jaw dropped at the sight of the minotaurs. One was armed with a giant sword that was nearly as big as she was while the other was carrying a club that had been a tree at one time, the knot of roots at the end forming a terrifying mace at the end of the trunk. The odds had suddenly shifted out of her favor. The Cossack and the Bushman, Toothiana would have been able to eventually handle or escape from. She was certainly not above turning and running if the fight wasn’t going in her favor. Add in the two giant bull-men, and she started eyeing the shadows and windows for the nearest exit.

It was a strange feeling that started in Toothiana’s chest when she saw the Cossack turn to attack the minotaur holding the sword with a fierce war cry. But why was he attacking the minotaur? Wasn’t he in the employment of the Monkey King as well? Shaking her head, she decided to wait until after the minotaurs were defeated before returning her attention to the Cossack and Brushman. Biggest threat first.

Shouting her own war cry, she fell on the minotaur, her swords ringing through the air to turn a blow that would have injured the Cossack. She grunted at the force behind that massive blade, and with a twist and spin, she was standing next to the Cossack. He flashed her a strange look before they were too busy holding off the sword-wielding minotaur to actually talk.

Toothiana didn’t know how long the three of them danced through the warehouse, swords flashing and wood being destroyed around them. She occasionally caught glimpses of the Bushman as he fought the other minotaur, often barely dodging the giant tree turned club. She had sustained some injuries from both the wooden shrapnel and a cut on her arm where she had accidentally dodged onto the Cossack’s sword. The minotaur had sustained more injuries and both her and the Cossack had created openings for each other to get a blow in, dancing in and out of reach like they had done this all their lives. A flicker of something pale almost distracted her from another lethal blow, but she managed to roll out of the way in time. Just as she got to her feet, the minotaur crashed to the ground, and she could only stare at it for several seconds as it lay there, unmoving. Had they truly done that much damage to such a creature as to render it unconscious?

“Ah good. I was not late for the dance,” drawled a familiar voice, and Toothiana looked over to find Jack Adler standing there in dark, roughspun clothing that looked like it belonged to some poor beggar on the street with more patches than original cloth. He strolled forward and bowed to her. “Your Highness, might I suggest that you and your dancing partners come with me to a much better local for a nightcap?”

“What are you doin’ here, Frost?” growled the Bushman as he emerged from the shadows. Now that Toothiana could see him clearly, he wasn’t human as she first thought but rather a bipedal rabbit species. 

“Disabling half the trap that a certain royal monkey left for all three of you,” drawled Jack with a raised brow. “While I have managed to send your larger than life opponents into a blissful slumber, I am afraid explosives are out of my knowledge range. Perhaps we might return to Baker Street _before_ they go off?”

Baker Street? What was on Baker Street aside from the famous detective, Bunnymund Holmes? “We should leave, regardless of where we go,” she stated, sheathing her swords and starting towards the door at a quick trot. Her arm ached from the cut she had taken, but the idea of explosives ticking away nearby distracted her. The rapid sound of footsteps behind her signaled that the other three were following her.

They had made it several feet from the warehouse when it suddenly exploded in a ball of fire and wood. Toothiana yelped as the shockwave threw her to the ground, splinters peppering her back but with the thicker fabric of her sweater, none managed to do more than prick her wings, leading to an irritable feeling instead of a painful one. She pushed herself up on her arms, shaking the ringing out of her ears when there was a hand held out to her. Looking up, she found the Cossack standing there with a small if sheepish smile on his face.

“May I offer assistance, Your Highness?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face.

“My thanks,” she said, sliding her hand into his, and he gently pulled her to her feet. She reached up and removed the dark keffiyeh she had used to hide her bright plumage, and she bit back a small giggle at the stunned look the Cossack gave her. She looked back at the destroyed warehouse that was now burning quite merrily before shaking her head. “We should leave before the police decide that we were to blame.”

“We can head back to Baker Street,” the Bushman stated with a shrug of his shoulders, and Toothiana realized he was settling his clothes from where they had been rumpled by the blast. 

The Cossack nodded and offered Toothiana his arm. “May we escort you, Your Highness?”

She smiled and slid her hand into his arm. “My thanks. I am Toothiana. Who are you and your companion?”

It was a surprise to find herself introduced to the sword swinging Cossack, Dr. North Watson, and to the rabbit Bushman, his partner the famous Mr. Bunnymund Holmes. When she looked around for Jack - she wasn’t sure if she should call him Adler or Frost - she discovered that he had vanished into the darkness.

When they arrived back at 221B Baker Street, Toothiana found herself sitting in a rather comfortable chair in what was obviously controlled chaos. North, as he insisted she call him, had already seen to their various injuries as the landlord, a yeti by the name of Phil, had served them a late tea before vanishing with a quiet grumble.

“What caused you to attack us?” North inquired as he exchanged his doctor’s bag for a cup of tea.

“I thought you were in the employ of the Monkey King, sent to attempt to kill me,” Toothiana replied with a slight shrug. “I followed rumors that he was at the warehouse, and when I discovered it empty, I realized it was a trap. Just at that time, you two entered as if you belonged there. Add in the little bit of conversation between you before you entered, and I could only believe I was your target.” She raised a brow at them as she took a sip of her tea. “What brought the famous detective and his assistant to that warehouse?”

“We also were looking for Monkey King,” North admitted with a shrug. 

“There is reason to believe that the criminal known as the Monkey King has been in contact with General Pitchner,” Holmes stated, his pipe clenched between his teeth as a steady stream of smoke wafted up from the bowl. “We sought to question him about Pitch’s location and business arrangement with the Monkey King.”

Toothiana shook her head. “I have not heard of this General Pitchner before when it comes to the Monkey King’s dealings, but should I hear anything, I will let you know.” Sh finished off her tea and rose to her feet. “Now, gentlemen, if you will excuse me, it is late and I should be getting home to my own bed.”

“I will walk you out,” offered North, putting his own cup down and moving over to her. She was about to politely refuse but there was something in his eyes that lead her to accept his offer. They were quiet as he walked her down the stairs and to the front door where he paused, a nervous look on his face.

“May I call on you tomorrow? Perhaps take you to lunch?” North asked, looking at her with a hopeful expression. She blinked, surprise at the question. Despite her status in India, she never had any suitors that came calling, and she had long since decided that she was not what any male would be interested in. North ducked his head, a faint blush on his cheeks. “You fight wonderfully, and I would like to get to know the woman behind the blades if I might.”

Toothiana smiled and rested a hand on his arm. “I have not been in town long and do not know all of the good restaurants yet,” she offered with a slight tilt of her head. “I would be delighted to accompany you to any that you wish to show me as long as I can extend an invitation to tea.”

North beamed at her like a little boy who had just received his first sword before he escorted her outside. Once a handsome was flagged down, he kissed her fingers before handing her into the cab, and he was still watching her as the handsome turned a corner, carrying her out of his sight. Toothiana smiled again as she thought of the evening. She may not have found the Monkey King, but she had made two more friends in this large, noisy city that seemed a little less lonely.


End file.
